


Get Up and Go

by riots



Series: Killjoys [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Codenames, Gangs, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hot as hell and Jongin and Sehun are bored and itching for a fight. Lucky for them, there's one right around the corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Up and Go

Jongin snaps his gum noisily, savouring the way that Sehun's eyes crack open for a second and he catches the barest hint of a sneer from Sehun's direction. He's so _bored_. 'Lay low', boss man says. 'All's quiet on the BL/IND front. Take some time off.'

Time off means boredom. It means an interminable amount of time with the two of them sprawled out on the hood of Jongin's Charger, dozing in the hot desert sun. And as funny as it is to watch as Sehun's pale nose turns redder and redder, Jongin's getting antsy. They both are. Sehun may be asleep now, but half an hour ago, Jongin was shouldering in front of him to stop him from getting into a fight over the last can of Fizz in the convenience store.

“Wakey wakey, shitheads.” The Doorman is always infuriatingly cheerful, and a complete arsehole. The crackle of the radio rouses Jongin from his lounge on the hood and he twists, sliding off the hood of the car. “Paging Atomic Thriller and his sullen sidekick.”

That gets a snort out of Jongin. “Hey,” Sehun grumbles, throwing an arm across his eyes. “I'm not a sidekick. You're the sidekick.”

“Yah, Thriller, pick up! Boss man says jump.” A grin pulls at Jongin's lips as he climbs halfway through the open window of the car and raises the mic to his mouth. Now that, that sounds promising.

“Morning, chump.”

Jongdae scoffs so loudly even Sehun hears it. “It's afternoon, you worthless teenage fuck.”

It's not comfortable like this, bent over the door of the car, metal digging into his gut. “Close enough. Out with it.”

“Fiveclaw says time for Thriller and his pal Gasoline Gunner to take a little trip to the BL/IND outpost in Sec 4.” Out on the hood of the car, Sehun whoops and punches the air with his fist. “Game?”

“Game,” Jongin breathes, and Sehun's echo is only half a beat behind him. “Motive?”

“What else?” Jongin can practically see Jongdae's wolfish grin. “Smash and grab. Fuck shit up, boys.”

Sehun rolls over onto his belly and looks at Jongin through the windshield, pushing his dirty pink hair out of his eyes. “Mayhem,” he says. The light in his eyes is familiar and sends a jolt of excitement down his spine.

“Can do,” Jongin says.

“All natural,” Jongdae reminds them. “Keep your RGs pocketed. Mayhem, not murder.”

There's a pause, and then another voice comes over the line, deeper, surer. There's no mistaking the slight accent. “Make me proud.”

Jongin runs his tongue across his teeth and through the glass, Sehun eyes widen. “Aye, cap'n,” Jongin replies, and Kris laughs, pleased.

The click of homebase signing off is loud and decisive, and Jongin and Sehun waste no time at all climbing into the Charger. Jongin revs the engine and looks at Sehun.

“Show time,” Sehun says, dragging his bandana up over his nose and mouth. Even if he can't see it, Jongin knows he's grinning. The car's tires squeal so nicely when he peels out of the parking lot.

Show time.

 

-

 

The door slams open with a bang, and Sehun looks pretty satisfied with himself. Of course he'd kick it open. He always did like a good entrance. “Hey,” he calls, striding through the door.

The sentry post isn't large, just the rundown husk of what Jongin thinks used to be an office building. It still plays the part, too. A woman sits behind the front desk, but her suit is just a little bit too threadbare, her smile just a little too stiff. When your life depends on these it, you get pretty good at picking up on them. The white suit helps, too. “Can I help you?” the woman asks.

Sehun saunters over to the desk and leans over it, his face half an inch away from the woman's as he idly toys with a pen. “Sure,” he says. She doesn't shrink away, and now Jongin is certain that she's a Drac. All she needs is the mask and bad aim. If he didn't hate her on principle, he'd be impressed. “What is there to do for fun around here?”

The woman tips her head, seemingly unconcerned. “Who's asking?” she says. Jongin tips over her mug with a fingertip, watching coffee splash all over the tabletop. Tension tightens the muscles in Jongin's neck and even if she's staring at Sehun, he thinks he can feel the weight of her gaze on his own shoulders.

“Well,” Sehun says conspiratorially. “I'm Gasoline Gunner. And this is my sidekick Atomic Thriller.” The red and blue bandana covers most of his face, but there's no escaping the smug curve of Sehun's eyes. Jongin scowls and kicks a chair over. Sidekick. _Sidekick_. It was his damn car, that meant he was in charge.

“That's adorable,” the woman tells them. She's tall, slender, but Jongin doesn't confuse that for frailty. One fine-boned hand rests on the desk, but the other remains out of sight, under the desk. That seems a bit worrisome.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jongin sees a couple of figures lingering in the hallway. Masks on. Bingo. Sehun catches them too, straightens. “She thinks I'm adorable, Thriller,” he tells Jongin.

“You need to get your eyes checked,” Jongin tells the woman. She shrugs a shoulder. The Draculoids at the door sidle in, trying to look casual. Jongin looks them over quickly, taking in their weapons. Three thugs. He catches Sehun's eyes and scratches at his hairline with two fingers. Two RGs.

There's a noise behind him, and Sehun glances over. Three fingers tapped against his thigh twice. Jongin grins. Easy peasy.

“Listen,” the woman says, standing. She's nearly as tall as he is. “Maybe if you come quietly, we won't fuck you up too badly.” Her sugar sweet smile sends ice through Jongin. Damn.

Sehun shakes his head and hooks his thumbs into his belt loops. “What did you think we came here for, anyway?” He looks over at Jongin. “What was it Fiveclaw called it? Starts with a g.”

The Dracs are closing in on them, slowly, surely, but all Jongin feels is the hot buzz of adrenaline. “Guerilla warfare?” he suggests. He tucks his hands into his jacket pockets and curls his fingers into cool metal.

“Bingo.”

One shared glance and then they both let out a roar, launching themselves in opposite directions. Sehun heads for the door behind them, and Jongin runs at the Dracs in the hallway, pulling out his brass knuckles as he goes. Three on one. He likes those odds.

He has to be fast. He swings at the closest one, metal and fist colliding with the man only a few seconds before his chest does. It's sloppy but hard, and it does the job – the man's hand never makes it to the gun at his hip. Jongin feels a quick flash of satisfaction as the guy's head bounces off the wall and he goes down fast.

It doesn't last, though. Strong arms hook through his, hauling him backwards, lifting him off the ground. Jongin fucking hates being incapacitated. He arches his back, kicking his legs out wildly. It pays off when his heel hits something. He catches the glimpse of a Draculoid, trying hard to level his RG at his head. Not _good_. With one hoarse yell, Jongin bucks until he wrenches one arm loose, and he catches the Drac's wrist.

Not a second too soon. A flash and a bang and there's a black scorch on the wall opposite the desk. The man holding his arm digs his fingers in hard. “Fuck,” he shouts in Jongin's ear, trying to haul him away. Jongin refuses to be shaken off, stretched between the two men and gripping the Drac's arm until he can feel the bones crunch beneath his hand.

Thankfully, the man's hand opens and the gun falls to the ground with a clatter, and disarmed, these two are gonna be way easier to handle. Not that easy, though. When he turns to handle the guy he'd just disarmed, knuckles collide with the back of his head, hard. Lights explode behind Jongin's eyes and he gasps, staggering forward.

It takes him a few seconds before he can see straight again and by then he's in a headlock. One of them is slamming his fist into Jongin's gut, knocking the wind out of him and making his head spin, but Jongin fights back. He still has his arms free, and his brass knuckles are no joke. It's a glancing blow that catches the guy in the face, opening up his forehead, blood running into his eyes. Jongin uses it to his advantage, following it up with a solid hit to his nose and smiling in victory.

Two down, one to go. He's getting lightheaded from the grip around his throat, but Jongin still has the presence of mind to hammer his elbow back into the man's gut until his arm slides away and he can catch a breath. Unsteady, Jongin knows he can't let the opportunity slip, and he pivots on his toe and slams his brass-knuckled hand into the man's windpipe. His eyes roll back in his head and he's down.

He's not done, though. Jongin takes a second to catch his breath, one hand pressed to his diaphragm, and it's sheer luck that he manages to stumble back a step, out of the way of the foot that slices through the air towards him. The woman at the desk is far more composed than the other Dracs were. She's got a precision they didn't, and Jongin doesn't have it either. She's relentless, swing after swing, carefully positioned hands and feet coming at him until he's backed up against the wall again, nearly tripping over the still form of one of the Draculoids. “Jesus Christ,” he gasps.

“No,” she corrects him. “I prefer Queen Victoria.” A jab to his throat and he's choking on air. Toes to the solar plexus and he's doubled up, tears in his eyes. She's _good_. Not Drac good. Scarecrow good. Jongin wonders if they're hiding something in this dingy little shithole.

No time to focus, though. Her elbow swings for his head and he lets his body go limp, dropping out from under her range, and not a second too quickly. His knees hit the floor with a painful thump, and he knows he's going to be feeling it tomorrow. Jongin doesn't care. He loves this, even as every bit of him aches and he fights for each breath. Now this, this is living.

Victoria stands over him, hands on her hips. “You're scrappy,” she says, almost approvingly. She reaches down to tug off his bandana, but before her fingers even reach Jongin's face, she crumples.

Jongin looks up to find Sehun, eyes wide, blood streaming from a cut across his cheekbone. “Scrappy,” he echoes. His eye is swollen, already starting to blacken.

“I'm taking it as a compliment,” Jongin says. His voice is ragged and Sehun holds out a hand, helping him to his feet.

He has to admit, the aftermath is pretty impressive. The small room is strewn with bodies, and it's trashed. The desk didn't survive, smashed in half and a leg missing, and one window is shattered. Sehun nods. “Not bad,” he says.

“Not bad,” Jongin agrees, and they high five.

It only takes them a few minutes to comb the building, but all they come up with is a bit of food and some paperwork that looks boring. They pause in the doorway and Jongin glances back at Sehun, eyes sly. He likes the way that Sehun's eyes curve into a smile. It's like he can read his mind.

Between the two of them, it's short work to drag the Dracs outside and prop them up against the building across the street. There are curious eyes on them from the very start, and they have to move fast now. No doubt the authorities are on their way.

Luckily, it really doesn't take long to start a fire, and even less for an old shit hole like this to go up. “Wish I had some marshmallows,” Jongin says, and Sehun nudges him with his elbow, laughing.

When they hear the sirens approaching, they bolt to the car, sliding in and peeling out, losing themselves in the maze of backstreets that make up the slums of Battery City. They drive in silence until they can be sure they lost them, and then Sehun grabs the radio.

“Doorman, come in.”

“Loud and clear, Gunner.” It's always good to hear Jongdae's voice over the line. One of the constants of this life.

“Mayhem _definitely_ achieved,” Sehun says, and Jongin hooks a finger in his bandana, dragging it down and laughing. “Bet you can see the smoke even from that rock you're under.”

“Not so worthless after all,” Jongdae teases.

Jongin grabs the radio from Sehun's hand. “Shut up, mouthpiece.”

“Ooh, feisty.” Jongdae chuckles. “Alright, c'mon back.” There's a click, and then he adds: “Better hurry. Boss man got us some real food but I might just eat your share.”

“Motherfucker,” Sehun growls, and Jongin stomps on the gas. When his eyes flick over to Sehun's, he sees that same light again, even though he's all bruised up. “Hit it. If that midget gets my food, I swear to _God_ –”

“Have some faith in me,” Jongin tells him as the car speeds towards home base.

“Always,” Sehun says, and in the dim light of the setting sun, Jongin catches a flash of Sehun's teeth, and he grins in return.


End file.
